


December 11 - 14 fickle Valar

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Multi-Age, Other - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2005-12-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 21:38:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3744470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Today's writing "mathom" is:</p><p>fourteen fickle Valar</p><p>***</p><p>Write whatever you feel like – a drabble, a poem or a short story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cacophony - by Gwynnyd

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

(with apologies for the extreme silliness)

Maybe 'time' wasn't such a good idea after all.  He'd only done it to keep them all together.  Before, the Music had been rather like an Arbor Day program at a kindergarten, with Valar randomly leaping in whenever the urge came upon them to do a little more praising.  For a while everything had been fine and they had quickly picked up the time signatures on the celestial music.    
  
In the first intimation that not all was well, Manwe, Orome, Aule, and Tulkas formed a barbershop quartet.  Not to be outdone, Vaire, Nessa, Este and Irmo started practicing polyphony in earnest and complaining that the quartets needed to get together to practice eight-part harmony more often.   
  
Ulmo played long drum solos.  
  
Namo found a willing group of maia and formed a family pop rock group. Eru threatened that he'd hurl an asteroid if they didn't expand their repertoire beyond "Yummy, Yummy, Yummy (I've Got Love In My Tummy). Now they alternated that with "Raindrops Keep Falling on my Head" and "I Think I Love You" until he wanted to scream.  
  
Nienna sang like Edith Piaf and wanted him to create absinthe, except when she sounded like Billie Holiday.  
  
Yavanna could never decide if she wanted to be Maria Callas or Brittany Spears.  
  
Varda's costumes were too Vegas and the bits of glitter were beginning to fall off and stick to the cosmos.  
  
But the worst, the absolute worst, was Melkor, who'd been created with a strong voice but a limited range. Eru had envisioned him as the do-wop background track to keep the rest in time, but he wanted to be the lead singer.  The Gregorian chant phase hadn't been too bad, but he'd segued right into channeling Adrian Leverkuhn, and took to declaiming loudly that atonality was "The Future of Music."    
  
Melkor's latest glissando scream shattered Eru's last nerve.  The Valar were supposed to stick to one musical style, but their fickle tastes made that impossible.  Quickly creating an enclosed universe, he bundled them inside and told them to play out their own creation.    
  
Silence.  It was finally quiet.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 


	2. Music - RiverOtter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today's writing "mathom" is:

Music  
  
Arda bursting forth  
Fourteen sing in harmony  
A fickle Vala


	3. 14 Fickle Valar - Dean Maia of Este

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today's writing "mathom" is:

14 Fickle Valar  
  
Manwe hesitated before Eru.  
  
"What more do you wish? Ask of me, there is no offense in questions."  
  
Manwe spoke to Eru saying: "A new torment comes to your Children from Sauron. They resist with the spirit given to them by the Flame Imperishable and the strength given by Your grace, but they struggle. We would aid them, even if just by advice through dream or foretelling given to them. What may we do?"  
  
Eru answered: "The Great Music that created Arda did not include your aid in this Theme. My children must overcome these torments themselves. It will rebound only to their increased power, your greater love for them, and My devising of works greater.  
  
Manwe answered: "Dear-bought these works will be accounted."  
  
Eru said: "But well-bought and well remembered. Fear naught your time to aid will return."  
  
Manwe left the presence of Eru and came to the Ring of Doom, Mahanaxar, where the Valar held council and reported to them the doom of Eru. And the Valar sat and mourned for the Children.  
  
  
  



	4. Fickle - by Wolfwind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today's writing "mathom" is:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The custom this is based on may not be universal, so I'll share. Traditionally, a young girl who liked a boy but didn't know if he recipricated would pick a daisy or another flower. She would pluck off the petals, alternating "He loves me" and "He loves me not". The phrase used on the last petal was right.

**Fickle** *

* _They love us._ *

Fourteen fluttering petals, falling to the earth. They were Song and Singers, being and creating. Now they learned of roots, and of growth, and rejoiced in the beauty they made.

And they waited, for the crown of the Song. The ones for whom the beauty is. They waited for us.

* _They love us not._ *

The Enemy arose in darkness and wrath. Ruin spread across their beauty. Land was twisted, plants were poisoned. Their delicate flower turned to a bramble.

They fled. They created a new place of beauty, a place to hide. They abandoned their first task, the land that waited. They abandoned us.

* _They love us._ *

They set the stars to light our coming, to teach that not all the earth was darkness. They counted the time until our coming. They longed for us.

They rode out against him when they found us. They brought him down that we might have peace. They fought for us.

* _They love us not._ *

They left, once again, the land of our borning. They called us to their beautiful place, to ignore the wounds they'd wrought. They let this land's bloom fall away.

They set him free, the lord of darkness. They gave him the land they had left. They cared nothing for us.

* _They love us._ *

They heard our pleadings and arose in might. They defeated the dark one and threw him to the Void. Flowers bloomed, birds sang in the light of a new dawn.

They freed this land from his oppression. They brought us victory beyond all hope. They cast him out for us.

* _They love us not._ *

They turned away, to their own concerns. They hid on their island of beauty and ignored the scars rending our land. They left us ripped asunder.

They came to us and abandoned us. They claimed to love us and forgot us. They joined us and left us to fight alone.

* _They_ *

A field strewn with flowers, nodding in the wind. An idyllic peace, shattered by the host's march. The touch of a boot, and a daisy's petals arc into the air.

* _love us_ *

Fluttering on the breeze, white petals float toward the West.

* _not._ *

The wind dies. The petals fall to the earth, forgotten.

*Note: The custom this is based on may not be universal, so I'll share. Traditionally, a young girl who liked a boy but didn't know if he recipricated would pick a daisy or another flower. She would pluck off the petals, alternating "He loves me" and "He loves me not". The phrase used on the last petal was right.


	5. Praises Flow As Water - by Agape4Gondor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today's writing "mathom" is:

## Praises Flow As Water

Manwë, the wind rushing and whirling his robe about him in splendor, held in his left hand a goblet filled with nectar from the vines of Taniquetil.  Turning, he extended his right to his mate, and Varda, clothed in raiment bedecked with her beloved stars, rose to stand beside him.   
  
Ulmo, not used to being in Valinor and greatly missing the sound of the sea, looked towards his friend.   Manwë had to laugh – never would the Lord of Waters come to his table without some distinctive garment.  This time he wore a dark helm, foam-crested, and his raiment of mail shimmered from silver down to shadows of green.  
  
Aulë, in deference to the occasion, had shaken the dust of the earth from his own robes, laid his axe and pick aside and stood holding Yavanna's hand in his.  Robed in green herself, she smiled and the air was filled with the sweet smell of flowers and wild berries.  
  
Námo and Vairë had entered the room late, bowed to their Lord, and stood by the places allotted to them.  Varda shook her head.  As always, Vairë had woven their attire and, as always, the weave was perfect and stunning.  Nienna stood close by, holding her arms about her, stifling the moan of supplication that was ever on her lips.   
  
Irmo and Estë waited in silence, hearts turned inwards towards Irmo's dreams and visions, which wrapped around them in the deep rest offered by Estë.  A gentle clearing of his throat caused the two to turn towards Manwë.  They bowed and raised their own cups.  
  
Tulkas, proud, brave, golden-haired Tulkas and Nessa, wind-whipped themselves from their sudden entrance, stood with goblets raised.  
  
Oromë, his hound ever at his side, laid his great horn on the table in front of him, and extended his hand.  Vána, birds perched on her shoulders, stood and took it.  Her smile caused his somber face to light in joy.  
  
Some called them fickle, these Valar of Ilúvatar, but today, they stood as one.  Today they would not be called the _fourteen fickle Valar_.   
  
Today they would be called constant.  
  
"To Eru!  May He be praised now and forever!"


End file.
